


Running Up That Hill Chapter Seven

by broadwayblainey



Series: Running Up That Hill [7]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 13:45:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14770742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broadwayblainey/pseuds/broadwayblainey
Summary: You couldn't possibly think I could do a coma fic without person K talking to person B while he's unconscious, did you?I had some problems writing this fic, I wrote a lot of it and was really happy with all the dialogue and then lost it all when my computer decided to update on it's own, so that's great! I'm not entirely happy with all of this but I think it turned out okay in the end.Anyway, hope you guys enjoy, no major warnings.





	Running Up That Hill Chapter Seven

Kurt Hummel had two minds. His logical side could understand that hospitals can be a healing place; a place where babies are born and lives are saved, where people make life-saving and world-changing discoveries. But then there's the emotional side; the one that makes him act first and think later, that makes him yell at people who look at Blaine in the wrong way, the side that likes to remind him every time someone makes a doctors appointment or needs stitches that his mother died in the hospital.  
She was meant to be fine. She was meant to get better. She didn't.  
That's not something anyone could ever expect him to get over. At least, that's what his Dad always told him. He was right, of course, as he often was. It had gotten easier to cope with over time but he still cries whenever he hears a Patsy Cline song or whenever he watches Maria and Captain Von Trapp dance together. His grief, though easier to hide and less suffocating, caught him in unexpected ways. If it didn't make him weepy, it made him shout. Not often, he didn't consider himself an aggressive or violent person, but he did; he would snap at Blaine whenever he was late home from work without texting him, leaving Kurt an anxious, pacing mess waiting in their apartment, thinking he was dead on the subway tracks or whatever awful thing the anxiety goblin in Kurt's brain managed to conjure. Or, he would yell down the phone to his Dad whenever he told Kurt of the stomach flu he had had for a week without telling him.  
Or he would snark at doctors whenever they seemed to be useless.  
"He's responding well, Mr. Hummel," Dr. Ellis said for probably the thousandth time since they had met.  
"Yeah, you've said that," Kurt was sat in one of the armchairs in Blaine's hospital room. He had taken to rotating through all the available seats in Blaine's room, changing every thirty minutes to avoid gettings stiff joints and was now leaning back at in the chair under the window, ankles and arms crossed and eyes near-glaring at the tired looking doctor in front of him. "But he won't wake up, so he can't be doing that well."  
"I know that's how it looks, but the surgery was successful, we stopped all the bleeding and we're hopeful he'll wake up soon," the doctor repeated the same thing every day and was, to his credit, extremely patient and calm whenever Kurt rolled his eyes at him. Which he was doing now. "We are, Kurt," he said, and he really did seem to mean it. "Blaine is responding to stimulants; his pupils are dilating and his eyes flutter. His fingers flex. I know these don't seem like much, but they're all good signs," Kurt nodded and unfolded his arms. He rubbed his temple with his thumb, he seemed to have a permanent headache.  
"I know," he sighed quietly. "I just feel, I don't know how I feel. Helpless, I guess. Useless."  
"You're not useless," the doctor smiled a sad, lopsided smile at Kurt. "Have you been talking to him?"  
"Kind of," Kurt said. "My Dad and Carole talk to him a lot. Cooper, too. I just find it hard. I don't see how it will help."  
"It will. It might not wake him up immediately but people in comas respond to sound."  
"What should I say?"  
"Just talk to him, like you usually would; tell him who you are, about your day, what you're feeling. Be soothing, keep your voice calm," his stopped when his pager beeped. "I have to go."  
"No rest for the wicked, right?"  
"You're very funny," he turned to leave and called over his shoulder. "Talk to him."  
"I will."  
Kurt pushed himself up out of the chair and stretched his arms out to his sides. He stood next to Blaine and smoothed his husband's hair down around his forehead, the humid hospital room was doing nothing for Blaine's curls.  
"Hey, you," Kurt said, he figured that was a good place to start. "I'm sorry I haven't - That it's, uh, taken me this long to talk, I just don't know if I believe in all this," he gestured between them, and then frowned because Blaine couldn't see him. Obviously. "But Coop's been talking to you. Though I guess if you can hear me talking to you now, you heard him. So that's kind of moot."  
Kurt sighed and perched himself on the edge of Blaine's bed next to his hip.   
"I, uh, God. I don't know what to say," he admitted. "Ellis said I should tell you about my day, but mostly I've just been sat here staring at you. I know I always gave you shit for watching me sleep, so I'm being a little hypocritical," he traced the pattern in Blaine's gown with his thumb. "My Dad and Carole keep telling me to go home and sleep, but I haven't been able to leave you. Your plants are probably dead, sorry. Though I never promised to be a stepfather to your roses."  
What the hell was he even saying?   
"How does Cooper do this so easily? He doesn't stop talking when he's here. But, I guess most conversations Cooper has is just him talking at people anyway," he rolled his eyes fondly; Cooper had actually been a blessing in the last few days. "He told your Mom that you're here. Apparently, they talked for an hour, or something, on the phone. They know you're here. I can't remember if Cooper told you that," Kurt clenched and unclenched his jaw; he had always tried to keep his shit talking of Blaine's parents to a minimum. "You deserve better, sweetheart," he said and looked up at Blaine's face. If you could ignore everything, the bruising and the tubes and the everything, you could think he was peaceful. Kurt hoped he was.  
"I've never seen Cooper like this, though, Blaine. He's going insane. I mean, he's always been insane but this is like a whole new level of crazy, even for your brother," he paused again, he was kind of unsure of where to go with this. "He keeps visiting and then leaving to go home, but he just drives around for an hour and comes back. It would be funny if it wasn't, you know, awful. And he looks awful, too. You should wake up just so you can tell him he needs some filler between his eyebrows. And you'll have to pay for it."  
Kurt, for some reason, half expected Blaine to laugh. Stupid, of course, but Kurt had decided that, when it came to Blaine being sick, he would rather let himself be stupid than hopeless. At least, that's what he told himself whenever he had to stop his mind from spiraling.  
"I'm even starting to sound like you, you know that? It's like you're in my brain. 'Spiralling,' right? 'Going to my dark place,' that's what you say," Kurt shook his head. "Maybe we really are as sappy and co-dependent as Santana says. That's kind of nice, though, right? It used to scare me, how much I need you. Not needing you scares me more now," he admitted.  
Kurt reached out for Blaine's hand and rested their interlocked hands on his thigh. It was raining against the window next to Blaine's bed, it had been most of the time since their wedding night and it had become sort of comforting. The heart monitor next to Blaine made his skin crawl, though, and that particular hospital smell that seemed to cling to every hospital room still made him randomly gag at the worse moments, but he was okay. Mostly, he was just sad. And angry in ways he could never have even imagined before. He was angry for Blaine; because Blaine had wanted to marry him for over ten years, and it shouldn't be like this.  
"You deserve better," he said again. "You've always deserved so much better than what you've had. You're the best person I've ever met, you're my favorite thing, Blaine. My very favorite thing," he was breathing too hard so he took some deep breathes to try and calm down. "You're like - You know that quote you love, from that book. I can't remember the name but it's, like, you're half of my soul. And I'm half of yours, too."  
Kurt hadn't realised he was crying, but he was sobbing now. He wiped his wet cheeks in the back of Blaine's hand and pressed his lips against his fingers.   
"You need to wake up because you deserve the chance to be happy, happier than you've ever been," he huffed out another deep breath. "And if you can't do it for you, because you've never been very good at doing things for yourself, do it for me. I deserve it, too."  
He didn't try to stop the tears now, he squeezed his eyes shut and let himself rock back and forth, Blaine's hand still gripped tightly in his own. Being like this, with his own happiness hinged on someone else, wasn't something he had wanted, especially after his mother was taken from him. Before Blaine, he prided himself on being fiercely independent; he had his Dad and his dream and that was all he needed. But, that wasn't the case anymore. It hadn't been for a long time. Blaine being well and happy and, most importantly, alive had become his priority without him even realising. It was scary, but it was better than the alternative; not caring about Blaine, not loving him or marrying him, being alone. Maybe he would have been a little more at ease, maybe he would never have felt heartbreak like this, but he would be alone. And, honestly, being without Blaine scared him more than anything else he feared.  
They were meant to be married. They were meant to be happy. He hoped they would be.


End file.
